


In History's Shadow

by firefright



Series: Talon and the Hood [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, everybody has issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Drake is Robin, the third in a line that has only ever ended in tragedy. After spending his whole career under the expectation that he too will one day fall, he learns his predecessors are alive and in Gotham. Tim knows he shouldn't seek them out, that they're dangerous men now, but he still can't help looking. Some things he just has to see for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In History's Shadow

Some things never change, Tim reflects, and one of those things was Gotham's ability to surprise him when he least expects it.

The nights have been quiet since the news of the Joker's death broke in the press. The city holding its collective breath as the citizens, criminal and law-abiding alike, wait for the fallout to begin, whatever it will be.

A gang war, almost certainly, as the criminal element seeks to capitalise on the removal of the city's most vicious and chaotic element. With Joker gone every villain out there will try to claim the name of top dog, especially with what remained of his loyal gang members dispersing the moment Harley Quinn had been caught trying to break into the GCPD morgue two nights before. 

She's in Arkham now; the Joker's one, singular mourner.

Only the fact that most people are still reluctant to believe that the Joker is actually, _truly_ dead, prevents that war from erupting already.

That belief wasn't without good cause, as unpredictability had practically been the Joker's calling card, if anyone could pull off a surprise return from the dead - or fake his death to a degree that fooled even the police and Batman - it was him. So until the gangs were one hundred percent sure that the Joker was no longer living no one was going to risk firing off the first shot, they were too afraid of being caught up in the crossfire of another one of his elaborate schemes for that.

They don't have Tim's sources though; he knows without a doubt that the Joker's body had been cremated yesterday, when the mayor decided to handwave proper procedure due to Quinn's rescue attempt. No one was taking any chances of the Joker coming back, and Tim suspected that once that fact got through to the general populace they'd be dealing with more than a few impromptu celebrations.

Just because Bruce didn't believe in killing as a solution didn't mean everybody did, and personally Tim had always thought it only a matter of time until someone, maybe an overeager cop or the vengeful relation of a victim, stepped up to do the deed. 

It turned out he might not have been too far off the mark with that last one.

That's why Tim is out here on the streets, instead of sitting safely back at home as Batman had ordered. He'd been restricted to monitor duty after his leg injury in the Red Hood chase, then banished from the cave altogether after what had happened at Crime Alley. Bruce wouldn't even talk to him about it, so he'd had to get the truth from a clearly reluctant Alfred, who had only shaken his head sadly when Tim had asked if the Batman was going to be okay.

He thought he'd be okay coming out to patrol with crime down so low, even if his leg still hurt with every rough landing. He thought he could make a circuit of the area's of the city thought to house the Red Hood's hideouts without getting distracted.

But Gotham was never safe, never, and Tim should have remembered that.

"So," he says, forcing cockiness into his voice as he twirls his bo staff, trying to distract the still standing thugs from the way his leg is starting to tremble under the strain. Three down, another five to go, "You guys still set on taking me down?"

There's blood in his mouth from an earlier blow to the face and Tim smiles. The more he winds them up the stupider they'll get, and the better his chances will be at walking out of this relatively intact. 

"Oh yeah, bird brain, we are." Number one thug says, using unoriginal insult number two, seemingly unperturbed at three of his friends already lying bleeding on the ground. Tim understands why that is when the guy pulls a gun out from inside his jacket.

That changed things. They'd only come at him with knives and pipes before, probably wanting the achievement of being able to say they took out Robin with their hands alone, but the fact he's putting up so much of a fight seems to have changed the leaders mind on that approach. They always underestimate him.

Gritting his teeth, Tim reaches for a batarang. He'll only have one shot at taking the gun out, and in truth he might be better going for his grapple and fleeing the scene, except that something in him is violently against letting these guys walk tonight. Tim knows that if they get away with this it might become a signal to the rest of the criminal element that it was time to spring back into action, and the city wasn't ready to handle that just yet; _Batman_ wasn't ready to handle it, not with the revelations of the past week. 

"That's too bad," Tim wears a smirk that isn't his, one he learned from watching old video files on the bat computer. He's bluffing all the way, "Because I've got more important things to do tonight than play with you lowlifes. I'll try to make this quick."

He throws the batarang before he's even finished talking, inwardly sighing with relief that it hits its target before Tim uses his staff to propel himself forwards, feet first, into the leader's chest. Pain shoots up his calf and it takes every bit of control he has not to crumple on landing. Instead he springs clear, narrowly missing the bottle that's thrown through the space where his head used to be.

Tim spins, cape catching another thug in the face and blinding him to the incoming crash of the bo staff against the side of his head. He collapses, leaving Tim with four left to take out. Then a pipe impacts against his side, and even though the blow is mostly absorbed by the armour of his suit it still makes Tim wheeze as he kicks out with his good leg against the guys stomach, winding him in turn.

Too late, he realises what a mistake that was when his bad leg folds underneath him. 

Thug number one is up again, clutching his wrist, and there's murder in his eyes as he steps forward to swing his boot into Tim's ribs. Another grabs hold of his staff, ripping it clear of his hands and oh yeah, Tim's boned unless Batman shows up in the next thirty seconds, and then after saving his butt Bruce will surely give him the lecture of a lifetime. Right before he tries to fire him again.

Not what Tim wanted from tonight, not what he'd set out to do, and he only has himself to blame for not thinking straight.

Gotham though, Gotham is full of surprises, and sometimes what she takes with one hand she gives with another.

Tim's eyes go wide under his mask when thug number one suddenly screams. A knife slices through his thigh, right at the point where the femoral artery lies. A second later blood spurts out from the wound and the guy collapses, grabbing at his leg with a shocked sob. 

It's a death sentence unless he gets medical attention quickly, Tim thinks distantly, before his attention is stolen completely by the lithe shadow that drops down into the middle of the alley.

_No way_ , is what he thinks as he watches the Talon - and there can really only be one person behind those goggles - no way he's this lucky; or unlucky, depending on how things play out. Another gang member goes down screaming, clutching his stomach, while the others recoil in fear and, before he realises it, Tim's stretching out his hand, calling, "Wait, don't kill them!" to the assassin in front of him.

The leader continues to sob on the ground as Dick Grayson drops the third with a roundhouse kick to the back of his head. The last thug, maybe a little smarter than his friends, does the most sensible thing he can in this situation and books it for the exit of the alley as fast as his legs will carry him. 

Tim see's Grayson pull out another knife, watches him poise to throw out and shouts desperately again, "Dick, don't!"

He doesn't. Instead the Talon turns his head sharply, lips pursed in displeasure as he looks down at Tim, before letting out a very real and human sigh as he tucks the blade back into his suit.

It's a signal for Tim to move himself backwards, until he finds the wall of the alley way and use it to help push himself back up onto his feet. Well, he tries to, except that the Talon is there in front of him before he gets the chance, black gloved hands hovering over Tim's leg. Dick cocks his head inquisitively, the movement so very avian that for a moment the current Robin has to consider if that was how the title came about in the first place.

"Are you all right?"

The question temporarily stumps him, but Tim eventually manages to nod. He looks at the gang members on the ground. "These men need an ambulance."

Dick looks displeased again, pointedly ignoring the statement, and Tim has to force himself to stay very, very still as hands feel over his leg. His heart is beating about a mile a minute in his chest because he knows who this is, he knows what this man did and even if he'd meant to, _hoped_ to find him and Jason Todd tonight, it still puts Tim on edge to be so vulnerable in front of him. 

"Please," He tries again, "It'll only take a minute."

"I'm not stopping you." Dick says quietly, pulling his hands back and resting them easily across his thighs as he crouches, apparently waiting for Tim to go ahead and call it in.

Tim doesn't take his eyes off the Talon for a single moment as he anonymously drops the tip to the 911 operator, asking for police and ambulance to come to the address. _Dick Grayson_ , he thinks dizzily,fighting back memories of a warm arm around around his shoulders and the smell of the circus as the flash of the camera bulb went off, it's really him. 

He swallows after he ends the call, still tasting blood. "I - thanks. For the save." Tim's not sure what else to say in the moment, every word he'd rehearsed before leaving home seems to have dropped out of his head.

"You're hurt." The concern in Dick's voice surprises him, but then again none of this is going the way Tim expected it to. He watches Dick look around them before the Talon stands, offering him a hand up, "It's not safe here."

"I know, I -" Tim just looks at the hand for a moment, before deciding that if Dick meant to hurt him, or kill him, he wouldn't have bothered saving him in the first place. He lets himself be pulled up onto his feet. "I wasn't planning on getting into a fight tonight."

Why did he say that? Why is he explaining himself to Dick, who looks almost amused for a second before his expression smooths out again. "I... I'll be fine, if you can just get me my - whoa!"

Dick's arm wraps around his waist, and at the same time he steals Tim's grapple gun from his belt, aiming it up high at the nearest roof. It's all Tim can do to hold onto the leather of the Talon suit as they shoot upwards, swinging onto the brick above with surprisingly little sound.

It occurs to him he should probably be trying to get away right now, but he isn't. The boy who'd watched, wide-eyed, as the Flying Grayson's took to the air, still wants to trust the former Robin. He wants to believe that wherever Dick is taking him, he only means to help.

If Bruce ever finds out about this... Tim really doesn't want to think about Bruce's reaction right now.

"What are you doing?" He asks in confusion, gazing up at Dick's face and trying not to be alarmed at how unnaturally pale he looks up this close. The boy he remembered had lightly brown skin, a naturally tanned tone thanks to his Roma heritage, but the man in front of him looks like he's never seen a day of sun in his life. "Where are we going?"

Tim swears he see's Dick almost smile again as he pulls him across the roof, actually lifting Tim clean off his feet before jumping the small gap to the next building over. They repeat the process once more to get to the roof beyond that, before Dick guides him to drop down onto a fire escape, level with the very top floor of a particularly rundown looking apartment building. Then he let's go of Tim for a moment, leaning forward to pull open the window in front of them to access the dark apartment beyond.

Light spills outwards, temporarily blinding Tim, who realises that the apartment isn't unoccupied or dark at all. It only looked that way because someone had blacked out the glass. "Wait, I -"

Dick pushes him inside first, and Tim really starts to regret his life choices as he half falls onto a hardwood floor. He manages to catch himself on his hands, then looks up to find himself the subject of a distinctly unfriendly, unhappy gaze.

"What the fuck." Jason Todd says flatly.

Was he - had he seriously managed to get himself into a fight only two buildings over from the apartment where they were living? Tim thinks he might very well hyperventilate in a second at the drastic turn his evening has taken.

"He's hurt." Dick answers, unperturbed by Jason's tone as he circles round Tim and heads for the already open med kit sitting on top of a stained coffee table.

"You said you were making sure he _didn't_ find us. Not bringing him right into our living room!" 

Jason looks at Tim again, who openly stares back at him, and there's something undeniably skittish about his gaze before his eyes flick over to the window. A large, fading bruise covers most of Jason's jaw. "Batman could be -"

"He doesn't know I'm out here." Tim confesses quickly, in an effort to calm the situation, winding his fingers together in his lap. He doesn't stand up. He doesn't do anything that could look even remotely threatening. "I'm supposed to be at home, off-duty, I didn't tell him what I was doing. And I won't, I won't tell him anything about this."

"And why are we supposed to trust _you_?"

"Jason." Dick interjects, his voice a sharp reprimand, and Tim stares as his hand goes to Jason's shoulder, then slips down to rest on his chest, fingers splayed over the younger man's heart. He'd pushed his goggles up onto the top of his head while Tim had been focused on Jason, and he can't help but stare at the reveal of Dick's eyes. He remembers them as a clear, bright blue, now they're ringed in gold.

"What?" The second Robin, now Red Hood, snaps. "We can't! Batman is out there looking for us and this dumb kid -"

Dick steps in front of him, his back to Tim, so he doesn't see the silent communication that passes between them. Whatever look they share, it shuts Jason up at once, leaves him clenching his fists and staring at the floor, while the Talon steps back and towards Tim, clean cloth and antiseptic held in his hands.

Tim swallows and takes a quick glance around the apartment while Dick kneels in front of him. The first thing he notices is the lack of... well, anything. There's barely any furniture, no clothing, technology or even food in sight. Whatever this place is to them, it's clearly temporary and the boxes piled on the floor back that assessment up.

"Are you guys... leaving?" He asks, wincing when Dick wipes at the blood on his face. The whole situation is completely surreal, there's a Talon fussing over him like he's a baby chick who's fallen out of his nest.

Jason's the one who answers, sounding bitter. "Well you know what they say, kill the clown, then get the hell out of town. The old man's not exactly the forgiving type."

"He's - he doesn't want you guys to go." Tim tries to say, mouth obstructed by cloth. "He -"

"We broke his precious rule, Drake." Of course they know his name, but it still jolts Tim to hear it said out loud. "The only place Bruce wants to put us is in a jail cell, or maybe Arkham. That's his usual solution for hopeless cases, isn't it?"

"He doesn't think you're hopeless." Tim defends; because he has to, because he believes it.

Jason folds his arms in front of his chest, the movement noticeably stiff. "Is that why you were looking for us, to try and convince us to hand ourselves in?"

"Jason." Dick draws back, turning his head to look back at the younger man. It's not quite the same warning as before.

"No, Talon. I need to know, why have you been looking for us, kid? What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

"I..." He swallows, because honestly? Tim isn't so sure himself, but the moment he'd found out who had been behind the Red Hood and the death of the Joker he'd felt compelled to seek them out, abandoning his usually more cautious methodology. He didn't know if he'd even expected to actually find them, or if he'd just be chasing ghosts the same way Bruce did.

One of Jason's eyebrows climbs up towards his hairline when Tim reaches up to pry off his mask. It stings to do it this way, but it's a gesture Tim wants to make, something that actually means a damn in their world even if they already know his identity. "I wanted to meet you." He says quietly, holding the domino between his fingers, "I've always wanted to meet you."

"Excuse me?" Dick draws back away from Tim, standing with the sort of lithe grace he could never hope to emulate, and glides back to Jason's side as he talks. Tim doesn't know if he's waiting to act as an intermediary or simply prefers to be next to the younger man.

The part of him that isn't outwardly focused on trying to explain himself is fascinated by the behaviour. As far as he was aware, from breaking into the records Batman kept on the first Robin, Grayson had never shown any signs of remembering who he was before, or having any attachment to anyone else. Yet here he was, protecting Tim, fixing up his admittedly minor wounds, and seemingly completely comfortable around Jason Todd, the man who'd taken up wearing the pixie boots after him.

There's so much he wants to ask, but doesn't yet dare. "When I was younger, I used to sneak out into the city to watch you and Batman. I'd take photo's of you, you were my hero."

He's stumped him, Tim thinks, he's actually stumped Jason. The man looks frozen in place, eyes (greener than Tim remembers) wide and unsure. "What -"

"You were the boy with the camera." 

Both Tim and Jason start then, looking at Dick as he loops an arm around Jason's waist and rests his chin on top of a broad shoulder. Tim chokes, both a little at the intimacy between them and the revelation, "Y-you knew? You saw me?"

"You weren't the only one who followed Batman and Robin around," Dick seems to think something over for a moment, and then Tim see's him smile for sure. "Baby bird." 

Tim might be blushing right now.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?!" Jason is asking incredulously, turning his head to try and look down at his - partner?

"You saw him." Now Dick's the one who's frowning, lifting his head up to meet Jason's eyes. "I watched you wave at him once."

Talon had seen him, Talon had followed him back then. Tim feels dizzy. "He's right, you uh, you did that."

There's a lost, troubled look on Jason's face. "I don't... I don't remember." He flinches minutely when Dick reaches up to touch his face, turning away from the touch to look back at Tim, who thinks he definitely needs to reassess exactly what the nature of their relationship is. "Is that why you were stupid enough to take the position when he offered it to you?"

Tim should have seen that question coming. He braces himself, as he has time and again, to defend his choice to take on a role that many (Bruce included) had come to see as jinxed. "He didn't offer it to me. I asked for it, and I didn't let him say no."

If Tim didn't have their full attention before, he certainly has it now.

"Bullshit!" Jason snaps. "Either you're fucking crazy, or you're a Goddamned liar."

"I'm not lying!" He pushes himself up with the help of the wall, feeling pitifully short in front of them. Jason used to be smaller than Tim when he was fifteen, he thinks, but now he towers at what must be at least six foot, and Dick is only maybe a couple of inches shorter. "I figured it out, who he was, who you were. I figured out all of your identities and used that to convince him to let me be Robin."

"How did - why the fuck would you?!" Jason lurches forwards and it's only Talon's arms holding him back that stop him from crowding into Tim's space. "You got a death wish, kid?! You know what happened to me, right? You know what happened to -" He watches Jason hesitate, his eyes dart to Dick before looking back at Tim, leaving the sentence unfinished. 

"Batman needs a Robin."

Jason stills, then starts to laugh. It's an awful, broken sound, without a trace of real humour in it. "He needs a Robin like he needs a hole in the head. He can't be _trusted_ with a Robin! Where the fuck did you get that notion?"

"It's true," Tim powers onwards, clinging to the belief that has kept him going over the years since he donned the cape. "He needs someone to balance him. He was going off the rails after you died, taking dangerous risks, making mistakes, he was going to end up killing _himself_." He doesn't know if Jason believes him, and behind him Dick's expression has turned almost forcibly empty. "This city needs Batman, and Batman needs a Robin."

"You know what, I made up my mind. You _are_ fucking crazy, Drake. Only a crazy person would be that suicidally altruistic." Jason twists in Dick's arms, fighting free of the grip so he can turn away from Tim. "I'm done here, get the fuck out of my house."

"I'm not you!" The words burst out of him, one final desperate shout. "I'm not... I'm not _either_ of you." Jason stills, his back to Tim, but he's listening. Tim's heartbeat thuds in his chest, "I wish I was," He wishes he had Dick's natural talent, he wishes he had Jason's passion and tenacity; all the qualities he'd admired in both his predecessors. "I never wanted to be Robin, but I'm doing it. I'm doing the best I can because it's the right thing to do, whether you believe that or not. It is."

Jason doesn't say anything, doesn't even visibly react except for the hard tension in his shoulders, and then he's walking, with great powerful strides, to disappear into another room, slamming the door shut behind him.

It's just Dick and Tim now.

"I'm sorry." Tim blurts out. "I'm sorry, I - I shouldn't have said anything. I'll go. I..."

The Talon moves back across the floor towards him, and Tim freezes in place, swallowing as a hand comes down on his shoulder. _Do you remember me at the circus?_ he wants to ask, _Do you remember me before I was the boy with the camera?_ He wants to tell Dick about all the photographs he has of him, as well as Jason, he wants to offer to show them to him and see if they'll work miracles.

"He'll be fine." 

Tim swallows, squashes both urges somewhere deep down inside, and nods. "You and him, you guys are, uh, close?"

There's the smile again and yes, Tim thinks, there's something of the laughing acrobat he'd once watched soar through the air underneath the big top in that flash of teeth. "We take care of each other." Dick tells him enigmatically. "How's your leg?"

"It's okay now. I can make it home." All he really needed was to sit and let it rest for a few minutes. Tim takes back his grapple gun when Talon offers it to him. "You know you don't have to leave, right? If you stayed, if you just talked to Bruce..."

Dick shakes his head. He reaches around Tim to undo the locks on the window to let him back out, "We'll be gone by morning, don't come back here."

Tim reluctantly presses his mask back onto his face. He doesn't try to ask where they're going. "Will I see you again?"

The Talon pauses, then reaches into his belt, pulling out something that Tim recognises as an earpiece. Dick takes his hand, turns it up palm flat so he can drop the device into it, the look in his gold-ringed eyes so serious and vaguely sad at the same time that Tim can't help swallowing as he curls his fingers closed around the tech.

"One time only." Dick tells him, "If you're ever in a situation no one else can help you from." And Tim knows, gets it, that if he ever uses this line for anything else, if he uses it frivolously he'll never hear from either of them ever again.

"I understand." There's one more thing he has to say, "D - Talon." Jason had only called him Talon, Tim feels like it's significant for him to do the same. "Thank you, for what you did. For killing the Joker."

He says it for himself, for the city, and for Bruce, who never will.

Dick looks appraisingly at him for a moment, then dips his head in a nod. His hand is firm as he nudges Tim back out the window. "Stay out of trouble, baby Robin."

The window slides shut behind him the moment he's back out onto the fire escape, and a glance back behind him shows the apartment looking dark and empty once more. Standing out here in the dark, it's almost like the entire strange encounter never happened.

Tim rolls the earpiece - his one piece of evidence - between his fingers, before tucking it securely away inside his belt. He knows he should call it in now, to Batman, to Oracle, he should let them know what he's found. Doing so might be the chance to bring both the Red Hood and Talon in, but it would also be an action which would destroy whatever tiny piece of trust Tim has earned from Dick.

Similarly, Bruce may never forgive him for hiding the truth.

He weighs his options, even though he knows he'd already made his mind up the moment Dick intervened to help him in that alley way. Tim can only hope his decision is the right one in the long run.

**Author's Note:**

> This instalment took no less than three tries to get right. At first I began with Jason's perspective again, but quickly realised I wanted to write an outsiders look on him and Talon!Dick together, hence switching to Tim. Then the first approach I tried with Tim wasn't working for what I wanted with this piece either XD Luckily I got there in the end.
> 
> Tim in this 'verse is less confident than he is in canon. He's had to deal with a more distant Bruce, who nonetheless held him back from more dangerous situations in the hopes of keeping him safe where he failed with Dick and Jason. He also lacked the influence of having Dick as a big brother/mentor the way canon!Tim did.


End file.
